The Invitation

Oh my God, I look like such a ham!

Everyone from the office started to hoot and howl, and I dropped my face into my hands, too embarrassed to watch. I’d heard actors say they don’t watch their movies and thought that was insane. But now I understood why. I was aware of all the little nervous habits I had, as well as how heavy my New York accent was, and it left me unable to focus on anything but my flaws—all of which seemed highly amplified at the moment.

I cringed and shook my head. “God, this is so hard to watch.”

“Are you kidding me?” Olivia asked. “You’re a natural and doing incredible!”

The moment of truth came ten minutes into the show. Robyn pointed to the corner of the screen, and the price and telephone number flashed a few times. Thirty seconds later, a countdown clock appeared, too.

“Alright, ladies—and gentlemen out there who want to impress their ladies—we’re going to open up the lines now and let you start getting your orders in. We’ll continue to talk about Signature Scent, but I think you all already know you want it. So here’s what you’ve been waiting for, your countdown to the opening of our phones and online ordering. You know the drill… And five, four, three, two, one. We’re open!”

Within seconds, the countdown of the quantity remaining started to scroll. Slowly at first, but then it began to fly. I couldn’t tell you what Robyn or I talked about for the duration of the show—my eyes were glued to that countdown clock. When the thousands started to dwindle at a rapid pace, I thought I might hyperventilate, and I really needed a moment.

“Would you mind if I went downstairs to get some air? I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Olivia looked concerned “Of course not, but are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just a bit overwhelming, and I need a minute. I won’t be gone for long.”

“Of course. Of course. But don’t go downstairs.” She pointed to the hallway her husband had come from earlier. “Last door on the left leads to a guest bedroom. It has a private balcony and a bathroom, too.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Go. Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

The cool air outside felt incredible. I shut my eyes and took a few deep breaths. After only a minute or two, I felt calm enough to open them and enjoy the stunning view. From this height, the City seemed unusually quiet, which had a real tranquilizing effect on my mental state. So I felt a little better when I heard the sound of the door sliding open behind me, and I turned to find Hudson.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I just got a little overwhelmed watching that ticker, and my heart started to race.”

“Understandable.” He smiled and held something out to me. “Here.”

I looked down and my forehead wrinkled. “A banana?”

“I stole it from my sister’s kitchen. She didn’t have any oranges. I’m more creative with those.”

I was confused until I realized he’d written on it.

Your television debut is very appealing.

Hudson shrugged. “Get it? A-peel-ing. Go easy on me—I didn’t have very long to come up with something and still follow you out here.”

I laughed. “It’s very sweet. Thank you. I can see why Charlie likes your messages in her lunchbox so much.”

We stood next to each other, staring out at the City. The little fruit trick he used on his daughter had actually helped me relax. Or maybe it was just Hudson’s presence.

I sighed. “This is all so surreal.”

“I would imagine it is.” He smiled.

Yes, I was in the middle of a mental meltdown, but I still noticed how handsome Hudson looked. Not only was he dressed casually in a pair of jeans, he also had some stubble on his face that I really liked.

He’d been quietly watching me look at him, so I felt compelled to say something.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you unshaven and in street clothes.”

He flashed one of his sexy signature half smiles. “And?”

I tilted my head. “I like it.”

“Are you telling the truth or just trying to get in your daily compliment quota from your happiness plan?”

I laughed. “No, I like it. The scruff on your jaw gives you a sinister look.”

He tilted his head. “Is that your type? Sinister looking? That’s not exactly what I envisioned when you said your ex was a poet.”

I laughed. “Oh, Aiden is as clean-cut as they come. That’s always been my type. I never went for the bad boys. I don’t think I’ve ever dated anyone with a scar or a tattoo.”

“And you’d like to change that?”

I shrugged, playing along and teasing. “Maybe.”

Hudson’s eyes sparkled. “That’s good. Because I can help. I have both.”

“You do?”

He nodded.

“Where are they?”

“Ah…that’s information I’ll keep for another time.”